The weeks turned to months, and before they realised it December arrived. It had been over two months since they had begun their memory spells. Both Draco and Hermione were sleeping much better, the nightmares becoming less frequent, less harrowing. Each secretly delighted in seeing the other looking more energetic, healthier, the bags under their eyes reducing day by day. There was still plenty for them to work through, but it felt much more manageable at this stage.

Hermione sighed and stretched out on her sofa. It was Sunday evening again. As was now their firm habit, she and Draco had spent the day in their shared common room, reading quietly, only leaving for meals. Every so often she would peek up from her book to look at him, studying his own texts intently. Occasionally, she would look up and meet his eyes, and he would hold her gaze momentarily before looking away again, the small smile that played on his lips stoking the fire burning inside her. It had been a near perfect day for Hermione. Unfortunately, sitting for so long in one position still made her fading injuries twinge. She rubbed her palm along her neck, hoping to ease the dull ache with pressure, but when that didn't work she resorted to the tried and tested method. From the corner of her eye, she saw the familiar purple glow swell behind her head, and sighed again as the pain finally ebbed away.

'You're getting better at that,' he commented as she lowered her hand. She glanced up at him and frowned when she realised that he hadn't even looked away from his book. 'Always watching, Granger,' he drawled, his eyebrows wiggling and his familiar smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling when she stood, trying to contain her excitement at his words. At her movement, he looked up.

'Come on,' she said, making her way to the portrait hole. 'It's time for our rounds.'

She heard the scrape of his chair behind her, and chuckled as he scampered ahead, barrelling through the entrance to their rooms to hold the door open for her on the other side.

'Very chivalrous, aren't we?' she teased as she took his proffered hand and allowed him to help her through.

'Manners maketh man, Princess,' he retorted, eyes sparkling as he dipped in a half bow as she passed. Hermione giggled, and did her best to ignore the feeling in her chest that seemed to be a response to what he'd called her. It had happened before, when he'd praised her, called her a 'good girl', but she was still a little too scared of what it might mean to analyse it any further. They set off on their rounds, and Hermione was pleased that the castle seemed quiet. Most students these days were still a little frightened to wander the halls alone, and it was very rare that they ever actually encountered anyone on their rounds. They fell to strolling along at an easy pace.

'Speaking of manners,' he continued, voice casual, hands in pockets as he strode by her side. 'What happened with the Weasel?' She was slightly surprised by this question. It was the first time either of them had ventured to ask about the other's historic love life. She shot him a glare at the nickname, and he grinned cheekily back at her. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself returning the smile. One thing she was learning about this new Draco Malfoy - he was infuriatingly charming.

'Well ... ' She paused, still getting used to the idea of discussing these things with him. Like they were friends. Which, she supposed, they were. She certainly felt closer to him than she did to almost anyone else at the moment, anyway.

'Ah c'mon, spill.' She considered him for a moment. His eyes were full of mischief, but he did seem genuinely interestes.

'I guess ... nothing really happened.' He scoffed, and she shot him another look before continuing. 'No, really. We tried, but I guess we just weren't ... compatible. Much better off as friends.'

'So he didn't do it for you, then?' His question had an amused edge to it, and she frowned at him in confusion.

'Do what for me?'

'He didn't turn you on.' He looked her dead in the eyes, one eyebrow raised to infer his meaning. Hermione blushed furiously at his brazennes, all the way to the roots of her hair.

She would never admit it to Malfoy, or anyone else for that matter, but quite frankly he had hit the nail on the head. They had tried multiple times to be intimate with each other, and she had excused Ron's hurried fumblings as a lack of practice and experience. They had had sex on two occasions, and both of them had been painful for Hermione. Thankfully, both times it had been extremely short lived. Her blush deepened as the memories of her times with Ron were almost immediately replaced by flashes of her more recent imaginings.

'That's not ... I don't ... We -'

'Come off it, Granger,' Malfoy sighed, rolling his eyes. 'I doubt Weasley really knows how to treat a woman.'

'Well ... ' Hermione wrung her hands together, wondering how much she should share with him. Of course, Ron would be furious at her for even discussing their relationship, let alone with Malfoy of all people, but he wasn't here right now. Draco was, and she'd already shared a large portion of her soul with him. 'I suppose not.'

'So you slept together, then?' His tone was, again, very casual, but she realised with surprise that she could now hear how carefully monitored it was. As though he was gauging just how casual he needed to sound. She looked at him with interest before answering.

'Yes, we slept together.' She saw his jaw tighten infinitesimally, his brow furrowing slightly, but he made a great effort to push it all away. For some reason, seeing the effect her words had on him made her want to tell him more. 'To be honest, I don't think he thought much past his own ... pleasure.'

To her surprise, Draco suddenly tipped his head back and roared with laughter. His chuckles bounced back at them from the empty stone corridors.

'No shit, Granger,' he spluttered. 'I could have told you at any time that Weasley would make a selfish lover. It would have saved you the frustration of finding that out for yourself.' She flushed, embarrassed that she'd told him, and feeling guilty for betraying Ron's trust.

'Well, what about you and Pansy?' she snapped. 'I can't imagine that relationship was all sunshine and roses.' At this, his laughter died immediately and his expression turned so stormy that she almost apologised.

'Parkinson is a gold-digging fame whore, nothing more.' His voice was dark, and it surprised her to hear the hatred in it. She waited for him to continue, and when she didn't respond he looked sideways at her before going on. 'She was very happy to hang on my every word and offer me her body when I was destined to inherit a title, when I was heir to a powerful empire. But as soon as my family became disgraced, she ran out like her boney arse was on fire.' Hermione frowned at his description.

'I get that she hurt you, Malfoy, but you can't deny that she's beautiful.' She didn't know why she was defending someone who had participated in ridiculing her for years, but her inner feminist didn't think it was right for him to slight the girl's looks, just because she had bruised his ego. He merely snorted in response.

'Sure, she's beautiful. If you're into skin stretched tight over a cold, unfeeling skeleton and facial expressions more carefully crafted than Felix Felicious.'

'I think that's unfair,' she chastised. 'Just because you have a bad history with someone, doesn't make them any less pretty.'

'Parkison is ugly on the inside. That's harder to look past than external ugliness.' His response was sullen, almost as though he was pouting at being told off by her.

'External ugliness.' Something about his comment sliced into her heart, and dredged up painful memories, sparking anger in her. 'Ugliness like frizzy hair? And buck-teeth?'

He winced, his eyes sliced to her and he frowned. She hadn't expected the pained expression on his face. 'The hurtful words of immature, deluded simpletons,' he sniffed as he looked away from her again.

'Malfoy, you do know that you were the one who -'

'My comment stands.' He straightened, still not looking at her. They walked in strained silence for a few moments, and Hermione felt a little dejected by the turn the conversation had taken.

'Well, don't beat yourself up about it,' she finally sighed, the anger receding and leaving behind the insecurity that had plagued her for years. Years before she had even met Draco Malfoy. Years of watching those around her develop, leaving her behind. 'You aren't the only one who thinks that about me.'

'That's just the thing,' he said urgently, stopping in his tracks and turning towards her, grasping her wrist so that she would stop, too. 'I never truly thought that of you.'

She blinked up at him. 'You ... you didn't?'

'No!' His free hand flew to his hair, and he grasped at it in frustration as he struggled to explain. 'I just ... My head was being pumped with shit about blood purity and all of that nonsense, by my father and my friends, and at that age I just accepted that that was supposed to be my opinion too. And I suppose my dumb, adolescent mind translated that into rude, harsh comments about your appearence. But I've always found you beautiful and I - ' He froze, as if he'd just heard what he said. She could only imagine that his thunderstruck expression was mirrored identically on her own face. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, before dropping her wrist and finishing weakly, 'I-I'm sorry I ever m-made you feel that way.'

'I ... I forgive you.' Her voice sounded strange in her own ears, like she'd spoken underwater. Her brain was still trying to process what he'd said as he turned away and continued down the corridor. After watching his retreating back for a few seconds, she shook her head to clear her mind and scampered after him. They finished the rest of their rounds in silence, his confession lingering between them. Hermione tried to quell the flickers of hope rising in her chest that maybe, just maybe, there was something more to their unaddressed connection after all.

They finally returned to their quarters and he held the door open for her again, but this time his eyes were locked on the floor and she passed him without comment. She entered and started to make her way across the room, towards her bedroom. She needed time to think.

'Granger.' His voice was soft, but she stopped as suddenly as if he'd shouted at her. She turned slowly to look at him, and felt a bolt of electricity shoot through her at the look in his eyes. There was a little desperation, but he looked much more confident now, and she could see that this wasn't just part of the old Malfoy mask. He almost looked as though he'd reached some big decision, and had resigned himself to running with it. He took a step closer to her. 'I meant what I said.'

'Oh?' Her voice was a little strangled, and she didn't trust herself to say anything else. He closed the gap between them in one long stride, looming over her, forcing her to look up at him. She winced slightly as her neck twinged, and his hand immediately flew up to wrap around the base of her skull. She felt his magic easing the pain, and let her head fall back into his grip, looking up into his eyes. Silver eyes that smoldered down at her.

'About you being beautiful. I meant it.' His breath swirled against her cheeks, and her heart was beating so hard in her chest that she was sure he could hear it. A small, almost forgotten part of her brain screamed at her that this was still Malfoy, her childhood bully, a source of pain, not to be trusted. But the larger, more rational part of her mind, the part that had understood and accepted their friendship, squashed the thought down. It wasn't Malfoy, the boy of her past, that stood before her now. This was Draco, the man who had grown from years of hardship, the man who had seen and soothed her own darkness.

The only place they were touching was his fingers on her neck, and the tingle of his spell had been replaced with heat, a heat that seemed to be generated purely by their contact. As it flooded her body, she once again felt the jolt of electricity flash through her, and her eyes fluttered closed when it rooted in her core. She swayed towards him, inhaling the heady scent of his shampoo, and felt his breath tickle her slightly parted lips as he whispered, 'Hermione ... '

Then he was kissing her, softly at first but quickly leaning in to deepen it. Her hands shot up to his chest and she grabbed his shirt as his other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her tight against him. The hand on her neck slid up into her hair and tugged at it gently, tilting her head back to give him more access. Whether it lasted for seconds or hours, she couldn't tell, but when they broke apart they both gasped for air. Her eyes opened, and she stared up into his again. He smiled down at her, obviously trying to retain control over himself as he gently lowered her back to her feet. Her head spun when he carefully disentangled himself from her arms, taking a small step back. His eyes raked up and down her body with such intensity that she felt as though she had been stripped naked.

'Beautiful,' he murmered, his voice low and thick with something that made her stomach flip. Could it possibly be desire? He released the back of her neck and his thumb traced a path under her ear, along her jaw and up her chin, coming to rest on her lower lip, which he carefully eased from between her teeth. Finally, he removed his hand completely and stepped fully away, breaking all physical contact. With one last, lingering look, he turned from her and headed for his own rooms, throwing over his shoulder, 'Sleep well.'

'Y-you too.' Her voice was squeaky in her own ears as she watched him retreat. When he was gone she turned and staggered towards her own bedroom. She fought against the disappointment that their encounter had been so brief, but the way he'd looked at her, his words, the memory of the feel of his lips on hers kept circling in her mind. The need to release her pent-up tension was much stronger tonight than it had ever been before. It was wondering if he was doing the same, in a room just across the common room from her, that helped her to fall over the edge.